


Lost You (in the Snow) and Found You (in the Flames)

by dieilux



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Arson, Blood and Injury, M/M, Minor Character Death, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 18:14:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4489767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dieilux/pseuds/dieilux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chanyeol never felt like he belonged anywhere. He finds home in the dragon he has to slay and he wants to stay, even if it burns him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I never expected to be able to write anything past 10,000 words, let alone 20,000, but my love for my OTP and the urge to finish this and make this perfect (also because OTP) proved me wrong. I never experienced such a strong emotional attachment to a fic I wrote before, until now. This fic is my baby <3
> 
> Of course, I wouldn't have been able to complete this if not for my two angel beta readers, [Lee](http://archiveofourown.org/users/levitationist/pseuds/levitationist) ([](http://levitationist.livejournal.com/profile)[ **levitationist**](http://levitationist.livejournal.com/) ) and [Camille](http://exochrome.livejournal.com/) ([](http://yuraxchan.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://yuraxchan.livejournal.com/) **yuraxchan** ), who have held my hand and never let go despite my whinings and screamings. They've been so helpful to me throughout this whole writing process, throwing suggestions and correcting my terrible mistakes. Also thank you to my tlist, who had to listen to me whining and screaming about this as well XP
> 
> Last but not least, I hope you will enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing this ^^ (Despite the trigger warnings, this fic has a happy ending)

It's been eleven full moons since the last attack and it won't be long until the next one— just two more weeks. Enough time for Chanyeol to find it, but not enough time for him to defeat it. But that's what he's supposed to do; it's what he was born to do. With that thought in mind, Chanyeol slips his newly forged helm over his head and stands at the doorway of his quarters— the one he's been living in for as long as he can remember.

 

Now that he's finally leaving, after seventeen years of longing and training, he feels a sense of nostalgia washing over him. He takes in the sight of his small bed, and remembers how he used to take up only half of it. Now, his legs peek over the edge whenever he sleeps— not that he ever finds it hard to sleep like that; he's usually too exhausted after training to care about his sleeping position.

 

He makes sure that the blanket he seldom uses is neatly folded, along with what few change of clothes he has, so that when he comes back, _if he comes back_ , he'd be greeted with a sight of a tidy room. If he does come back though, he won't be living in this small room; he'd be up there, in the palace, and be treated akin to royalty. It’s a nice thought to look forward to, even though the reward of being wined and dined like a king is not why he's doing this.

 

With one final sweep of eyes over his room, he sighs and closes the door. _No turning back now, Park_ , he says to himself.

 

He walks down the narrow, humid hallway, barely illuminated by torches placed on the walls, towards the flight of stairs at the end. With each resounding step, he feels both dread and excitement coursing through his body, causing the adrenaline to pump into his veins, and it's not because of his task. Instead, it's because he's finally stepping out of these four walls that separate him from the rest of the kingdom. All those days of being punished with laps around the training grounds from trying to climb over the walls would pay off today.

 

With a renewed vigor, his tightly pressed lips melt into a tiny smile and he opens the door at the end of the staircase, his eyes squinting against the sudden brightness. Blinking rapidly, his smile widens at the sight of his black steed, fully equipped with armour matching his own. His horse looks majestic in titanium, he notes. The grey metal shines brilliantly under the light of the afternoon sun, making the red phoenix on it gleam.

 

Chanyeol sets down his shield, also adorned with the kingdom's emblem, and makes his way to his horse, cooing over it and stroking its flank. "Guess you're stuck with me, huh?" he says in a teasing tone and receives a whinny in return.

 

"Chanyeol."

 

He turns with his hand at the hilt of his sword before his name is even fully mentioned, a reflex ingrained into him from the countless harsh trainings he had endured, but relaxes when he sees who it is.

 

"Sir Minseok," he breathes out, the smile reappearing on his face. He's very fond of Minseok, even though the older's training methods were unforgiving, and sometimes even painful. He knows Minseok only wants the best for him, for the kingdom— he sees it in his eyes. Chanyeol thinks he would be nowhere close to being ready for this task if it wasn’t for Minseok.

 

"Don't get lost out there. Don't forget why you're doing this," Minseok says, his tone serious, but eyes giving away his concern. "I have faith in you."

 

Chanyeol feels warmth flood his chest at those words. He's always admired Minseok, as a teacher, as a war general, and as a person, and to be trusted by someone so important means a lot to him. He nods and points to the top of his sternum, his grin obscured by the helm covering his face. "As long as I have this, I'll be fine."

 

Minseok nods, and the silence that ensues tells Chanyeol that he should get going. He mounts his horse and Minseok hands him his shield. "Chanyeol, if you fail the task," Minseok starts slowly, a hint of hesitation in his voice, before he finishes in a tone that allows no disagreement, "don't come back."

 

Chanyeol’s eyes widen. He knows that there will be consequences if he fails this task, but being disgraced by his teacher is another thing altogether. _Doesn't he have faith in me?_ , he thinks.

 

"Don't come back if you fail, I mean it," Minseok repeats, and Chanyeol gulps, trying to swallow the lump lodged in his throat. He cannot fail.

 

"In fact, don't come back at all, Chanyeol," Minseok continues, causing Chanyeol to blink in confusion. Minseok must have sensed his confusion, already so attuned to the younger's emotions from years of training, because he steps closer to whisper in an urgent tone, his face contorted into an expression Chanyeol's never seen on his face— worry. "Run away, Chanyeol. Don't come back."

 

Chanyeol bites his tongue; he's never been allowed to question Minseok’s words, and now is not the time to start disobeying, so he nods. "Farewell, Sir Minseok," he greets, nodding his head slightly in respect before kicking his horse.

 

"Farewell, Chanyeol," he hears when his horse is already cantering.

 

He feels his throat constrict, because even though Minseok's tone is one of indifference, he can still sense the finality. This is a real farewell.

 

He gallops out of the compound and into the town, not looking back. This is what he's wanted his whole life, to finally be free, to be out of the training compounds, to explore the small but festive town, but somehow, Chanyeol thinks, this doesn't feel right. He completely ignores the awed looks of the townsfolk, the bright smiles on the children's faces, the cheerful chatter of the women, the people who look at him like he's a _hero_. This is not what he wants.

 

As his horse gallops out of the town and past the gates, he doesn't cast a backward glance, even though he was so curious about it for years, as Minseok's words ring in his ears.

 

 _"Run away, Chanyeol. Don't come back"_.

 

↭

 

Chanyeol doesn't stop on any of the towns he passes by because he doesn't think he can sleep this night, not with his conversation with Minseok still echoing in his mind. He shakes his head and kicks his horse's flank, spurring it to go faster.

 

He only decides to stop when his horse's movements have become sluggish and its breathing laboured. Guilt crawls up into his throat for burdening his horse for his own selfish reasons. He's been pushing it since midday and it's already sundown. The young moon, almost a crescent, is already noticeable in the darkening sky, and once again he is reminded of what he's supposed to do and how little time he has.

 

After removing his armour, he stretches his limbs and sits on the roots of a tree, resting his back against its bark as his horse drinks from a nearby pond. His hand rummages into one of his bags, a pouch filled with bread and cheese, and procures a piece of both. He tears them up into smaller pieces and throws some of the bread into the pond, a tiny smile making its way onto his face when the fishes come up to nibble on it.

 

He falls asleep just after the sun sets, his horse by his side. He doesn't sleep well that night, and for the first time in years, he doesn’t dream of glory, triumph, or freedom.

 

The cycle goes on for days. He continues his journey to the end of the kingdom during the daytime, only stopping when it's almost sundown, and occasionally pauses at midday to let his horse recover, but that's it. He doesn't allow himself to rest much, even at night, for fear of being robbed or assaulted in his sleep— even if at the back of his mind, he knows there's no one in the near vicinity. He passed the last town yesterday, so it won't be long till he reaches _it._.

 

On the last day, he stops when he sees a crudely written sign.

 

**"BEWARE,  
DANGER AHEAD"**

 

It's only a few hours after midday, but he unsaddles his horse and removes his armour, setting it carefully on the grass. On the horizon, he can see the hill he's been told about so many times. So he's _not_ lost. A tiny part of his heart had hoped he was, so that he could run away, but he can't back out now. He has people to protect, a duty to carry out, and Sir Minseok's reputation to uphold.

 

 _Sir Minseok_ , he thinks wistfully as he grabs his sword— a steel blade that was passed down from his teacher, almost twice as long as his arm and a quarter of his own weight. If only Minseok was here to explain the hesitance he’s feeling. Is it fear? What is he scared of? Death? Failure? _Going back?_ A long sigh. He has no one but himself in these woods, and even _he_ doesn’t know what he’s feeling.

 

He sits down between the roots of a large tree, the canopy providing a welcome shade. His fingers skim over the hilt of his sword, the ornate carvings creating the appearance of a phoenix's head.

 

 _"Do it for the kingdom,"_ Sir Minseok had said when Chanyeol had been given this task three moons ago. Chanyeol wonders why he wasn’t told about the task earlier, when it's obvious that it's all he's been trained to do: hacking at targets and blocking sharp lunges. _Maybe I wasn't ready,_ he thinks. His mind wanders to the words he’s been pondering for the past week. _Why sacrifice for the kingdom when he can’t even go back? Why_ can’t _he go back?_

 

His hand flies to his collarbones, where the oval-shaped, golden pendant is hanging from a metal chain. He'll be safe; he's always been safe with this. A priest who resides in the castle said this was what his mother gave him before she died from _its_ attack.

 

He looks up. The hill is right in front of him and the ominous-looking cave is visible even from where he's sitting. He's ready now, he decides with a determined look on his face. Tomorrow, he's going to complete his task.

 

Tomorrow he's going to slay the dragon once and for all.

 

↭

 

The sun rises a few hours after Chanyeol does, the early morning rays glinting across the grey polished armour on the knight's body. He inhales deeply, the fresh morning air providing a calming effect on his frayed nerves.

 

Before he mounts his horse, his eyes sweep over his surroundings as he takes in the mist, the cool air, the dew formed on the grass, and the peaceful silence of the place. _It might be your last time,_ a voice in his head supplies. He shakes his head to get rid of the voice. It has always worked until now, but not today.

 

_Turn around, boy._

 

Chanyeol grits his teeth and mounts his horse, ignoring the voice inside his head. Maybe it knows that it's the last time it'll be able to annoy Chanyeol. He smirks when he doesn't hear it anymore and places his hand over the top of his sternum— over the pendant. He recalls all the moments he almost died during training— a misplaced foot, a late dodge, an uncoordinated arm— but didn't. He always ended up unscathed, even when a sword was pressed to his throat with a pressure that could sever others’ heads.

 

_"There's powerful magic in that pendant, Chanyeol. Your mother really loved you."_

 

He's cheated death so many times before. He's definitely getting out of this duel _alive_.

 

↭

 

The hill is fairly easy to ascend, as there are few trees to contend with. As steep as it is, the rocky ledges are solid and very much capable of supporting their weight. Chanyeol only had to dismount his horse when they're almost at the top, a few hundred feet from the ground, as the paths are getting narrower and steeper. He leaves his horse at a ledge wide enough for the stallion to freely move and close enough to another one so it may leave _if_ Chanyeol doesn't come back.

 

The rest of the way up, Chanyeol is surprised that his heart is not hammering against his chest like it was this morning. However, he has no idea if it's confidence or acceptance. He hopes it's the former, although the hollow feeling in his chest tells him otherwise. He refuses to dwell on it, but the emptiness that he never had to experience before is so overpowering that he feels his breath rattle with each intake, and it has nothing to do with scaling the hill.

 

Despite his emotional turmoil, he jumps over the remaining ledges with practiced ease, avoiding the falling scree from above. The height doesn't intimidate him in the slightest. He's not scared of heights; he's not scared of anything. When he reaches the brow, Chanyeol looks down and sees his black stallion looking at him, still on the same ledge as he last saw it.

 

"You're one loyal fellow, aren't you?" Chanyeol asks in a soft voice, a small smile on his face.

 

The sight of something, albeit the something being a horse, fills Chanyeol with courage and motivation because someone is waiting for him. Before he left the kingdom, he'd considered Sir Minseok his motivation to succeed, always trying his best to make his teacher proud of him. He still remembers the first compliment he'd ever gotten from Minseok when he had avoided an unexpected lunge. It filled him with so much pride that he trained day and night afterwards to perfect his dodging skills.

 

Now, Chanyeol thinks bitterly, even his teacher doesn't want him back. Suddenly, all the confidence he's mustered over the years, all the courage that's been drilled into his head at such an early age, all the patriotism and love for the kingdom that he's been reciting daily, means nothing to him. Even if he succeeds, it still changes nothing— there's nothing in the kingdom to go back to. The thought itself makes the back of his eyes sting with unshed tears. He shuts his eyes tightly, willing the tears away, but some manages to escape, trailing down his cheeks.

 

"Should I even do this?" he asks himself, and he's not surprised at how broken his voice sounds. He doesn't even know what he's doing this for. There's nowhere to go after this.

 

He doesn't want to do this, he decides, but he's already here. And if he doesn't do this, Sir Minseok might be in danger. The attacks get more devastating each year, the effects more damaging, and even though Sir Minseok has been surviving the last ten attacks at the front lines, he doesn't know when it will be his last.

 

The emptiness in his heart is partly filled. He will do this, not for his dead mother whom he's never laid eyes on, not for the kingdom, not for the King whom he swore upon his life to protect, but for someone who's always been there for him as long as he can remember: someone who's scolded him for every single mistake, someone who's rewarded him with a curt nod and a twinkling eye whenever Chanyeol manages to disarm him, someone who's passed down his most valuable possession to Chanyeol.

 

Chanyeol grips the hilt of his sword and unsheathes it, the rays of sun glinting off the flat blade.

 

He's doing this for Minseok.

 

↭

 

The cave is hot. Even from where he stands at the mouth of it, Chanyeol can feel the heat radiating towards him in waves, a stark contrast to the cool wind blowing in from behind him. _It’s in here_ , he can tell as much— a fire-breathing mountain dragon’s breath is not cool after all. He places his hand over the pendant and mutters a silent prayer, one the priest had taught him when he was only five years old and forced into training, and steps in.

 

After twenty feet of walking silently and being careful not to step on rubble, Chanyeol’s tunic is already slightly damp from the beads of sweat trickling down his spine. The further he goes, the hotter it gets. His only comfort is the thought that he’s getting closer to the dragon.

 

With each careful step taking him further into the dark, seemingly endless cave, Chanyeol slows down— the lack of sunlight proving to be troublesome. In the back of his mind, he’s both relieved and nervous: relieved that the battle is being delayed as much as possible, and increasingly nervous out of fear, not for himself, but of the unknown. Books and lectures can only be so useful in describing a dragon and explaining its behavior, and despite the seventeen attacks he’s survived, Chanyeol has never seen the dragon itself; he’s always locked inside his quarter during the eleventh full moon of the year. He grits his teeth at the memory of pacing his small room for hours, waiting restlessly for Sir Minseok to come back alive _every single time_. He’s stretched his luck far too long and the fathomless fear for Minseok that comes with every attack spurs him to keep moving forward.

 

But apparently, the dragon has other plans in store for him, because with each step, his motivation dwindles as the heat rises to the point that it’s almost unbearable. To say he’s uncomfortable is an understatement— his hair is sticking to his temples and the back of his neck, his previously damp tunic is now drenched with sweat, and his vision is starting to cloud. He has no idea if the latter is from the heat or a protective charm casted by the dragon. Chanyeol considers taking off his armour, but decides against it. This must be one of its strategies: to render its enemies defenseless and strike at the most opportune moment, when the enemy is the weakest and most vulnerable.

 

His resolve comes to a breaking point when his vision blurs even more, the edges of it covered in darkness and his head feeling light. The heaviness of his titanium armour, shield and steel sword has never felt more apparent, weighing down his limbs with every step he takes. He’s now sure that this is more than just heat; this is the dragon working its magic. Even the most grueling training could not make him feel tired of holding up the weight of his own body and armour. With a shaky exhale, he slips the helm off his head and his vision instantly clears by almost tenfold. Although the heat and humidity are still suffocating him, the contrast from before is a huge relief and he gulps in the cooler air, dropping the helm on the cave floor. In his heat-induced haze, he only realises his mistake when he hears the resounding clang echoing throughout the gargantuan cave.

 

For a moment, everything is silent. Even his heart is still, he realises. When he doesn’t feel the usual telltale hammering against his ribcage, his breath is caught halfway in his throat.

 

Chanyeol refuses to either move or exhale, and it makes his lightheadedness worse, the dark spots clouding his vision again. Even so, his refusal is adamant, as if by doing so, he can undo his actions and stop the incoming waves of suffocating heat.

 

But the mistake has already been made.

 

The breath he’s been holding whooshes out of his lungs when he sees electric blue— the eye. Even from a distance of a hundred feet, Chanyeol can guess that the size of the eye is almost half the length of his own body. The gears in his mind whir as he hurriedly calculates the approximate size of the dragon. In the books he’s seen, this mountain dragon, Yifan the Destroyer, is gigantic. Its wingspan is said to cover half of the castle in the kingdom. And if he doubted it before, now he knows for a fact that the books speak the truth.

 

His first instinct is to find cover— he knows his armour won't stand a chance against a _dragon_ , and even though he's protected by the pendant, having another layer of protection never hurts. Chanyeol darts behind the stalagmite he had walked past a few feet before, his hands gripping his longsword to the point that his knuckles turn white. He's ready for battle.

 

He doesn’t hear the dragon coming, doesn’t hear the telltale boom of large feet, doesn’t hear the harsh breathing or hissing. Instead, he feels the waves of heat get increasingly hot and suffocating with each passing second, but he still can’t gauge how far it is from him. Not until he hears the sound of air being sliced just a split second before his instinct spur him to roll to his right, and for good reason. The stalagmite he’s been using as a cover is reduced to mere dust and rubble, leaving the uninjured knight exposed.

 

From this position, a meager five feet away from the dragon, he can see it in perfect clarity, the haze not enough to hide the magnificence of the creature. To say it's _huge_ is an understatement. The books don’t do it justice, despite the drawings and illustrations by well-known painters. The dragon is easily the biggest creature he's ever seen, so tall that Chanyeol has to crane his neck at an unbelievable angle just to see the head. He’s surprised a cave, even as large as this one, could house such a gigantic creature. His breath sticks in his throat as he marvels at how majestic the beast looks; shimmering black scales adorning its whole body, and electric blue eyes glinting and even _glowing_ in the dark.

 

The first roar jolts him out of his stupor and into action, excitement coursing through his veins. Even while darting through its legs, he feels his limbs jitter with anticipation. The creature is so breathtaking that he feels the immense urge to just stop and watch, but the logical part of his mind berates himself, _it's one of its spells again_. Dragons are, after all, ancient, magical creatures.

 

Now, in a _real_ battle, he feels the adrenaline rush into his bloodstream and it helps him focus, even with the overbearing heat. Everything is crystal clear; he can see the faint light reflected off the pitch black scales, and his limbs are cooperating perfectly as he weaves his way between the dragon's huge legs, so big that it takes two of his long strides to get around each one. His sword is slicing through air as he hacks at whichever parts he can reach, mostly the soft flesh behind the knees. With every screech and roar, Chanyeol is filled with pride, knowing that Minseok would be proud of his student for having such an effect on this legendary creature.

 

However, it doesn't last long. Chanyeol, although very spontaneous, unconsciously attacks in a pattern that Minseok has warned him about. Three strides, a jab, two steps to the right, a slash, three strides, another jab.

 

 _The dragon is smart, Chanyeol. He'll learn all your moves within_ seconds.

 

Minseok is right, yet again, Chanyeol realises a bit too late when he's knocked off his feet by the dragon's tail, the force enough to land him on the cave wall. He’s never felt more thankful for his shield as it takes the brunt of the hit.

 

He cries out in pain at the impact on his skull and immediately drops his sword on the floor, letting it clatter feebly against the cave floor as he clutches the back of his head. He's kneeling on the ground, and he knows it looks pathetic to submit so early into a battle, but he honestly couldn’t care less, never having felt such immense pain before. He's never even been _injured_ , not with the pendant.

 

Panicked and in pain, he places a hand on his neck to see if the pendant is still there, for reassurance— it is, and he's hit with confusion. He opens his eyes, expecting another blow from the dragon, but it's not poised for another attack. Instead, its head is lowered and Chanyeol knows he should feel scared, kneeling in front of a _dragon_ , and at its mercy, but the gaze that lands on him tells him that he's not going to be attacked. It's curious, Chanyeol notices, and it's judging him.

 

Inwardly, he scoffs with a wry smile on his face; he's probably the first knight to ever give up so easily in a battle, just because of a bleeding hea— His eyes widen when he realizes he _is_ bleeding and brings his hand in front of his face, the small amount of sunlight pouring in through the mouth of the cave illuminating the crimson liquid on his hand. He is stunned into silence and apparently the dragon is as well, because not even a breath or a hiss escapes its large mouth, one that could easily swallow Chanyeol whole. It's so silent that he can hear the sound of the blood dripping onto the cave floor.

 

He blinks and immediately scrambles onto his feet, crawling to the cave wall as his eyes desperately look for cover, his hand clutching the shield to his chest. The pendant is no longer protecting him. He's not safe anymore. _He's going to die._ In his seventeen years of life, the thought of dying had never crossed his mind, until now. He'd always been so protected by the invisible magic that even Minseok's harsh, rigorous training couldn't land a mark on him.

 

 _Minseok_. If Chanyeol dies, Minseok will most likely die too— dragons get stronger over time. His heart sinks. He could have prevented this. If only he heeded his teacher’s words and advice instead of attacking purely based on instinct. If only he could turn back time, just a few minutes. If only. Sadly, he can’t, and he’s paying the price.

 

He gets to the wall and scolds himself for being cornered by the dragon who's crawling forward, its snout so close to Chanyeol that he's getting cross eyed just looking at the creature. Slowly, its mouth opens and Chanyeol’s heart jumps in his chest at the sight of rows of white, jagged teeth and a forked tongue. No amount of training could have prepared him for this, he thinks as he feels his skin break out into a cold sweat. All thoughts of Minseok fly out of his mind, the fear for his own life overpowering everything else. He holds his breath, closes his eyes and waits, ready for his inevitable death.

 

But it never comes, and he opens his eyes to see the dragon no longer in sight. In its place is a man, donned in an armour that's even more impressive than his own: spikes at the shoulders, icy blue jewels encrusted around the gorget, and breastplate engraved with the symbol of the dragon: fire. Judging from the immaculate and unmarred steel surface, he knows that it’s just for show and has never been worn to battle. Chanyeol's eyes rake over the man's form, taking in the broad shoulders, the impressive height, the thick eyebrows, and the majestic look on his face, framed by pitch black hair and his breath hitches when he sees the eyes— electric blue.

 

The man picks up the sword Chanyeol had dropped a few moments ago in his haste to escape and the knight's eyes widen further at the sight of his heavy sword being lifted and swung like it’s a mere stick. Defeated, Chanyeol gulps and lowers his head, clearly acknowledging the strength of the man in front of him.

 

He feels the point of the blade on his cheek and the slight pressure before it's cutting into his cheek, not deep enough to maim, but enough to draw blood. He catches his bottom lip between his teeth, refusing to show how badly he is affected by a simple cut. The blade is lowered to his neck, pressing at his Adam's apple and Chanyeol would be lying if he says he's not scared. He's _terrified_ , even though just a few moments ago he was filled to the brim with confidence. He's too scared to even gulp, for fear the sharp point would puncture his skin again.

 

The point of the sword is raised and he is forced to lift his chin, brown eyes immediately locking onto the electric blue ones that are staring at him with a gaze so sharp it feels like holes are being bored into his face. He's not ready to die yet, he really isn't, but the fear locks his limbs into place and he has nowhere to go. He's about to close his eyes again, accepting his death for the second time that day when he hears a sharp command.

 

"Look at me," the man instructs, his chin raised in a manner that Chanyeol feels is imposing, and he knows just by the posture and aura that this is not a mere man. He feels strong, stronger than the knights back in the kingdom, stronger than Sir Minseok, and his presence demands submission and obedience, permeating the air more than the king’s. Chanyeol doesn't want to look up, but the commanding tone forces him to, and he has no idea if it's from the years of training or the demeanor of the man, but he obeys nevertheless.

 

"What are you?" the tall man asks, his head tilted slightly to the left, and Chanyeol feels the sword press further into his throat. He would back away if not for the fact that he's already pinned against the wall. He winces when he gulps, feeling the tip pierce his skin just slightly. A wetness trickles down his neck and he's quite sure that it's not sweat.

 

"A knight," Chanyeol chokes out and at the raised eyebrow he gets in response, he continues, "From the kingdom of Ferelden."

 

"Don't lie," the tall man hisses, his eyes flaring in anger. The edges of his irises crackle akin to lightning and Chanyeol holds his breath, hyperconscious of the tip of his _own_ sword that's about to take his _own_ life. He looks into the man's eyes, trying to muster every fragment of courage he has to project sincerity into his words.

 

"I came from Ferelden with a task to kill you," he says, his eyes unwavering, although the same cannot be said for his voice.

 

At this, the man's eyes widen and he looks puzzled, his thick eyebrows furrowing. He lowers the sword, apparently sensing Chanyeol's sincerity, and the knight gulps in the much needed air despite wanting to appear composed in front of the man. He’s struggling to catch his breath when he hears the man inhale deeply before saying, "You don't smell like a knight."

 

It comes out like an insult and Chanyeol's never felt more offended. He bites back the sharp reply he has on his tongue, knowing that a slip will cost him his life. Instead, he looks up at the man, a challenging look on his face.

 

Either the man is oblivious or he is not intimidated in the least by Chanyeol, because he continues, "Ferelden knights are human, no?"

 

A nod. Chanyeol is slightly confused.

 

"You're not human," the man says resolutely, his determined eyes piercing Chanyeol's confused ones.

 

At that comment, Chanyeol feels the confusion morph into anger and he immediately rises to his feet, ignoring the throbbing pain at the back of his head. “Not human, you say? Do you think I’m some kind of _beast_ like you?” he spits, his voice rising with every word he utters. The resolution he had to not put himself in a dangerous situation flies out of his mind as the words spew out of his mouth. He’s never been good at hiding his emotions; he excels in voicing out his unnecessary thoughts, which usually lands him in trouble.

 

 _Your fatal flaw_ , Minseok had once said when an eleven-year old Chanyeol had sat panting on the ground after ten laps around the training grounds— punishment for the _‘why do you still have puffy cheeks, don’t you train a lot?’_ comment— _is that you never keep your mouth shut._

 

The man quirks an eyebrow and he has the audacity to smirk, aggravating Chanyeol even further. “A beast?” he asks, his voice laced with amusement, “You’d be _honoured_ to be called a beast, with your sloppy footwork and predictable pattern.” Chanyeol winces inwardly at the last phrase.

 

“You look more like a troll to me,” the man continues, “perfect height for one. Although I must admit, I thought you were half elf.” While he says this, the man motions to his own ear and Chanyeol swears he could feel the vein on his forehead pop. He could handle being called a _troll_ , the least bright of all creatures in the kingdom, but no one makes fun of his ears and gets away alive, legendary dragon or no.

 

"Fight me and I will show you my worth as a Ferelden knight, you foul beast," he says through gritted teeth as he holds out his hand for the sword, _his_ sword. Even if he ends up losing this battle, or worse, dying, he won’t go down without a fight. A knight’s pride lies in his honour and right now, both his pride and Sir Minseok’s honour is at stake.

 

“Didn’t that already happen, troll?” the man asks in that infuriating tone again and all thoughts of coherence fade away in an instant. Chanyeol charges forward with an outraged cry, barrelling into the man, or at least attempting to. The man swerves right just before Chanyeol could manage to do so, slashing the back of Chanyeol’s armour in the process. The metal barely yields, but the pressure is enough to cause pain. He thinks that it’s probably enough to bruise him. The man throws the sword from his right hand to his left like it weighs close to nothing, a show of strength which manages to make the fear seep back into him.

 

But Chanyeol, despite the tremor in his heart, pays no heed and almost snaps at the man. Before he can do so, the man throws his sword towards him and Chanyeol catches it by the hilt, but not without a slight dip in his posture, the weight pulling him down. He readjusts his grip on the hilt and holds it in front of him, poised to attack.

 

"Fight me, then, like the true _human_ knight you are," the man says, before pulling out a sword from his scabbard, which Chanyeol had failed to notice beforehand. For the nth time that day, he finds himself awestruck, this time at the sword. The metal, obsidian if Chanyeol’s assumption is correct, glows in the dark, a blue aura encompassing it. He feels the air thrum from the change in energy. Even the best sword in the kingdom, the one he’s holding, cannot match its beauty and strength.

 

He shakes his head to dispel the thoughts of not being able to defeat this man, and tries to focus on the fact that he needs to reclaim his honour. He fixes his gaze on the man’s stance, which looks relaxed to the naked eye, but Chanyeol notices the veins protruding from his large, pale hands and the hardened gaze aimed at him. This is no longer child’s play; he’s in for a true fight.

 

Chanyeol doesn’t even wait for the man to strike, knowing that given the chance, the man would defeat him before the battle even begins and knock him to the floor in an instant. He charges, this time without so much as a peep, let alone roar, and the man parries it with his own sword, a loud clang resounding through the large cave. He’s forced eye to eye with the man, and from here he can see that something akin to electricity coursing through the man’s blue irises, eliciting a shiver down his spine. Never before has he seen such a legendary creature up close. Even though the man isn’t pushing him off, Chanyeol can feel his strength from how unyielding the parry is, showing how unaffected the man is from his strongest blow yet.

 

He backtracks, swinging his sword before slashing again and again, his efforts futile as his attacks are parried excellently. He repeats his predictable pattern as his eyes dart around to find a blind spot— a vulnerable point— before pulling back to lunge immediately at the man’s throat. He did not expect it to hit, but it never crossed his mind that his surprise attack would be intercepted so easily, and his eyes widen as his gaze snaps onto the man’s smirking face.

 

Infuriated, he attacks again with lunges, slashes and stabs, which are all blocked. The sound of clangs are the only noise in the cave aside from Chanyeol’s harsh breathing. Their swords, obsidian and steel, scrape against each other, causing sparks to form. But that doesn’t deter Chanyeol, not even when some manage to slightly burn his hand, as he continues to attack for quite some time. It seems like hours to him and he’s gasping as he fights. The man, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be affected in the least, his face still composed. He’s not even sweating, despite the numerous movements he’s made in blocking the enraged knight’s attacks.

 

Chanyeol can feel the sweat beading on his own forehead and trailing down his temples and neck, worsening the heat. Even so, he will persevere; he refuses to give up just because he’s tired— he’s supposed to either win or die fighting, not stop just because he’s tired. So he continues his attacks, albeit being slower and weaker, the blood trickling out of the wound at the back of his head intensifying his fatigue. His arms and legs quiver with each impact, the force too much for his muscles. He’s forced to remember his mock duels with Minseok and he regrets that Minseok didn’t push him harder than that, didn’t push him to his breaking point. He regrets faking his own stamina, insisting that a one strike duel— which ended in only ten minutes— was enough. This battle has far exceeded ten minutes, and he hasn’t even managed to land one single strike.

 

Just before he reaches his breaking point, when dark spots are clouding his vision, the man twists his sword and hits Chanyeol’s chest with its hilt, effectively knocking him back to the cave wall. A sharp pain at the back of his head courses down his spine and an anguished and pained scream rips out of his parched throat.

 

The last thing he registers before his consciousness fades away completely is the feeling of liquid trickling down his neck and the sight of the man sheathing his sword.

 

↭

  



	2. Chapter 2

Chanyeol’s eyelids flutter open and he sees stalactites overhead as he blinks the haziness away. He must have been unconscious for a long time, he thinks before his eyes widen and he sits up immediately. _I’m still alive_ , his mind supplies, as he whips his head to look for the man, only to realise that his surroundings are different. He’s no longer near the mouth of the cave, judging from the complete absence of sunlight. Instead, the area, almost circular in shape, is illuminated by lit candles of varying sizes placed at various places— on stalagmites, on the floor, and on ledges. He does a double take when they land on the huge bed in the middle of the large room, and looks back to the floor he’s been lying on to see a pillow.

 

His hands fly to the back of his head and he feels bandages, dry and most likely clean, wrapped firmly around it, covering his forehead as well. He looks down at his body and notices that he’s been stripped of his armour; only his tunic and drawstring pants remain— both still smelling like sweat. Aside from his clothes, he feels clean, unlike how he usually feels after his sweat has dried up after training.

 

He stands up, almost stumbling from the vertigo that hits him, before he spies a figure on the bed that he failed to notice before and immediately freezes. It’s the man. He sighs in relief when he realises the man is asleep and he makes to find his way out of the room before pausing in his tracks— his armour, he can’t leave without it. Now that the pendant’s effect has worn off, he won’t be able to survive the journey back to the kingdom, or anywhere, without it. He tiptoes barefoot around the area, careful not to kick or step on a stray pebble before he finds his armour at the side of the bed. He gulps at the close proximity he’d have to be in and braces himself before bending down to retrieve it, his eyes constantly darting between the sword and the man.

 

His fingers wrap around the hilt and he manages to extricate it from the pile of armour noiselessly. Suddenly, an idea pops into his mind and he fixes his gaze on the sleeping man. He looks so vulnerable in this position, lying on his back with a serene look on his face, the muscles so relaxed that it takes away the severe expression he had sported earlier.

 

It’s inhumane and it goes against every code of ethics he’s ever been taught, but it’s also his only chance to defeat the dragon and come out of this alive _and_ triumphant. His fingers tighten around the hilt and he mutters a silent prayer and an apology before striking down, aiming for the man’s long, exposed neck.

 

The blow doesn’t land on its target— in fact, it doesn’t land anywhere. His movements are halted, not because of the man’s sudden disappearance but because of the strong grip around his right wrist— the hand holding the sword— and his left forearm. He feels heat emanating in waves from behind him and he holds his breath.

 

“A knight, you say?” he hears a whisper from the man behind him, whose broad chest is pressed against his back, hot breath fanning across his ear and cheek, causing a shiver to run through his body. “What an honourable knight.”

 

Chanyeol’s rooted in place— not that it’s possible for him to move anything, and every muscle in his body tenses. He’s been caught in a despicable act, and now he can hardly say he’s a knight, let alone an _honourable_ knight of Ferelden. Not when he’s breached the code of honour to do something so low and dirty.

 

He’s about to let his guard down and lower his head when he feels the fingers around his wrist tighten. A surge of panic runs through his body when he feels his hand being pulled closer, the blade moving towards him. Chanyeol tries letting go of the sword, but to no avail, the grip on his hand is so tight it’s cutting off his circulation to the point that he can’t even feel his own fingers. He tries wrenching his hand out of the man’s grip, but both of his hands are bound and he’s afraid that any attempt to struggle would hasten his death. He’s escaped death far too many times for this to not be the end.

 

“You might be human after all,” the man spits, and Chanyeol can _hear_ the venom in his voice, making his hair stand on end. “Only humans would do something as low as _betraying_ someone who’s helped them.”

 

Those words flick a switch in Chanyeol. He’s right— humans _are_ the lowest of creatures, despite the hierarchy they established. They preach the code of ethics, mannerisms, and laws, but those are always broken at the end of the day. Chanyeol’s mind wanders to the elves, who submit their whole lives to their race, to the trolls who stand by each other through their triumphs and downfalls, and back to the humans. Humans, who claim to swear loyalty, only to end up betraying their rulers and comrades. Humans, who claim to always be kind and peaceful, yet wage war on other creatures and _other humans_ , just for the sake of power and dominance.

 

He thinks back to Minseok, who doesn’t want him to return.

 

Tears prickle at the edges of his eyes, and he tilts his head back to prevent any from falling. He _must not_ show weakness; that’s what he’s been trained to do. _By Minseok_ , his mind supplies, and he shuts his eyes, willing the thoughts away.

 

He’s forced out of his thoughts when he feels cold, sharp metal against his throat and his left hand is released before his head is yanked back by the hair. With his neck bared and his muscles locked in place, he really feels like he’s at the end. Chanyeol wills himself not to wince when he feels the edge of the blade press against his throat in a line, drawing blood. One slice— that’s all that it will take to end his pitiful life. With bated breath, he waits for it to come.

 

But it doesn’t.

 

The sword is pulled away and the hold on him relinquishes. Chanyeol immediately crumples to the ground before he could hold himself back. He can hear the faint clatter of metal on the floor beside him as his whole body shake in tremors from the fear and immense relief. Tears escape the corners of his eyes. He can’t help it, not when he has almost died for the nth time in such a short period and escaped it, yet again.

 

A thought passes his mind. Why is he still alive, when the man in front of him is the man that is feared across the lands, the dragon who has terrorised the whole kingdom seventeen times over? _Yifan the Destroyer_ spared his life three times, and he has no idea why, when so many _innocent_ civilians and honourable knights have been killed without a second thought.

 

As if sensing his confusion, Chanyeol hears the man utter regretfully, “Your blood. It’s not human.” He slowly sits up on the cave floor and looks up at the man with a questioning look on his face.

 

“I can’t kill you if you’re not human. Not when I’m not one as well,” he says with a frown on his face, his thick eyebrows furrowed as his eyes roam over Chanyeol’s form. The knight feels so small under a powerful creature’s gaze.

 

“I-,” Chanyeol stuttered out hesitantly, unsure if he’s allowed to speak, but the explanation from the man is enough to make him continue. “I’m human,” he says resolutely.

 

“You’re _not_ ,” the man grits out, his eyes closed. He inhales deeply, as if he’s trying to gather all the patience he has. “There’s nothing human about your blood.” He crouches so he’s eye to eye with Chanyeol and his hand reaches forward. Chanyeol unconsciously backs away and the man tsks in annoyance before gripping Chanyeol’s shoulders and running a thumb over the cut on his neck. Chanyeol sees the crimson liquid on his thumb when he pulls his hand back.

 

“Look here, troll,” the man demands before showing his thumb to Chanyeol, which only earns him another questioning look. Groaning in frustration, the man points to the blood. “Look at this. What colour is this?” he asks in the same manner one would ask a child.

 

A brief thought of _are dragons colour blind_ passes through his mind. “Red,” Chanyeol answers without a second thought and he knows that’s the wrong answer when the grip on his shoulder tightens almost painfully. “Look _closer_ ,” the man commands, and Chanyeol does, wondering if centuries of being alive has finally cracked the dragon as he squints his eyes. They widen when he finally notices it.

 

“Gold,” he breathes out, his eyes fixated on the metallic hints dotted in the expanse of red. He’s never bled before— the only time was in the cave entrance, and even that was too dark for him to see anything besides red properly. Now, in an illuminated room, he can clearly see the flecks of gold swirling in the stagnant blood.

 

“It can’t be,” he breathes out in a voice so soft, it’s barely above a whisper.

 

The man stands up, drawing himself to his full height. “It’s possible,” he says, as if he has heard him loud and clear. By now, Chanyeol is no longer surprised with the man’s capabilities.

 

“No, no it’s not. You don’t get it,” Chanyeol says, blinking and shaking his head as he also stands up and dusts his pants. “I’m _human_.” He tries to emphasise the last word, but even to his own ears, he sounds unconvincing.

 

“I’m human,” he tries again, although it comes out even weaker. Even he is unsure of who he is.

 

Chanyeol gulps and lifts his thumb, swiping across the cut on his neck. The rough skin accidentally tugs on the edge of the cut, tearing it wider in the process. He winces before looking at his thumb, still seeing red flecked with the one colour he’s been dreading to see: gold.

 

In a moment of insanity and desperation, his mind jumps to the conclusion that maybe this is normal. Maybe everyone else’s blood is red and gold as well, it’s just that no one’s been attentive enough to notice the gold. _Yes, that must be it_ , Chanyeol says inwardly. There’s no other possible explanation. He _must_ be human. He’s been raised as a human, fed as a human, trained as a human, and looks like a human. He _is_ human.

 

Despite how hard he tries to convince himself that everyone else’s blood is the same colour as his, at the back of his mind, he knows for a fact that it’s not. He can still remember the day when Sir Minseok had returned from battle with a gash on his arm, dripping with dark red liquid. He remembers frantically attending to his teacher, pressing a white cloth on the wound and seeing it turn red without the glitters of gold. He knows that he’s the one that’s different.

 

Chanyeol’s at a loss. If he’s not human, then… what is he? His eyes widen in horror at the realisation that he’s _considering_ the fact that he’s not human. Shaking his head to dispel the ridiculous thoughts, he wipes the blood on his tunic, pointedly refusing to see how the white fabric turns red with flecks of gold, a stark difference from Minseok’s.

 

“I’m human!” he suddenly yells, although he has no idea if he’s yelling at himself or at the man, who looks confused at the sudden outburst.

 

The man schools his expressions into his default look and explains calmly, as if sensing Chanyeol’s emotional turbulence, “You’re not, you’re probably a shifter.”

 

He doesn’t even know what a shifter is— how can he _be_ one? “I’m _not_ a shifter, I’ve been human all my life!” Chanyeol says, his voice getting higher as he picks up his sword from the floor, gripping the hilt and holding it in front of him threateningly. The man doesn’t even flinch or blink.

 

“I’m _human_ ,” Chanyeol repeats, his tone bordering on hysterical. As if to prove his point, he lifts up his left forearm and closes his eyes as he slices through the skin with the blade, drawing blood. _It’s going to be red, because I’m **human**_ , he chants in his mind.

 

It is red, but there’s no denying the unmistakable glint in the red, even as it drips down his arms and splatters onto the floor. His stomach sinks and his hold on his sword loosens. In his haze, he doesn’t even register the sound of it clattering to the floor, nor does he register strong arms pulling him forward to press a white cloth on the bleeding gash, staining it red and _gold_.

 

In his mind, only the words _I’m not human_ are visible. It’s impossible, yet it’s the only possible explanation for the colour of his blood. His mind flashes back to all the years he’s been alive and he still has no recollection of being something other than human. The only clue that might have indicated that he isn’t human is just the magic from the pendant that protects him from any injuries, which are fading away, judging from the pain he feels on his forearm and neck.

 

He’s been treated and raised like a human ever since he can remember, even though he was separated from the others.  
  
_You’re too young,_ is what they said to him when a five-year old Chanyeol had asked why he couldn’t join the new recruits in the training grounds. They didn’t look any different from him, just older. Maybe around eleven.

 

 _You’re too strong for them,_ is what Sir Minseok had said when he was older than the new recruits. He had been waiting ever since he grew taller than the tallest recruit, but it had been two years and he was still training alone.

 

Back then, he accepted everything without defiance, without thought, because Sir Minseok is a _Sir_ , so he must be correct all the time. Now, he realises as he stands in a cave, covered in splatters of his own blood, he should have noticed how differently they treated him. He briefly wonders if Sir Minseok knew this, then he chastises himself. _Of course he did._

 

Of course they would send someone not human to kill off a dragon. No human has ever survived after attacking one. In fact, no _creature_ has survived trying to go against one. What makes them think Chanyeol is special enough to kill this one off? Or is it just that Chanyeol is disposable because he’s not human? He thinks back to all the moments he had laughed with Sir Minseok and had felt like he _belonged_. It’s all just an elaborate lie. He’s dispensable.

 

What is he then? What makes him so different from the elves and trolls that he was trained his whole life by the war general himself?

 

Slowly, he looks up to meet the man’s eyes, which are trained on him. He detects a semblance of relief in the electric blue, a hint of emotion that vanishes with a blink. Only now does he notice the cloth wrapped around his forearm.

 

“What am I?” he asks weakly. Since he’s already established and is slowly accepting the fact that he’s _not_ human, the question of what exactly he is bugs him.

 

The man's expression remain stoic as he answers the question, betraying no emotions. "A shifter, like I said."

 

Chanyeol’s eyebrows furrow. Even though he has no idea what a shifter is, the word is self-explanatory. For him to be a shifter, he must have _shifted_ into another creature, but he’d have noticed if he had suddenly shifted into another species.  
  
The man seems to be able to read his mind, because he continues. "You probably shifted into a human before you could remember. Although that's rarely heard of, it does happen when forced."

 

“Forced? How does one exactly _force_ a shifter to… shift?” he asks tentatively, his eyes tracing over his skin for anything that might give away the fact that there’s something else underneath, something _not human _.__

____

 

__“Magic,” the man answers, pointing to the pendant around Chanyeol’s neck. “Strong, dark magic.”_ _

____

 

__Chanyeol’s eyes widen and his uninjured hand immediately flies up to the pendant, holding it up to his eyes so he can inspect it more closely, although he’s done that more than a handful of times already. He knows every curve and pattern engraved into it, or at least he thought he did. Although he can feel the energy thrum from it, he can’t sense anything dark about it. If anything, it feels comforting. Also, why would his own _mother_ protect him with dark magic? Love is supposed to be pure, the complete opposite of dark._ _

____

 

__Another question pops into his mind, and with that, many others. Was his mother a shifter too? Was that why she forced him to shift? So he would be safe even after she’s gone?_ _

____

 

__He blinks at the realisation that suddenly dawns on him and he looks at the man, his eyes glassy and moist. He’s never had an emotional bond with his mother, but now that he knows what he is, he understands his mother’s sacrifice and love. Why she used dark magic, however, is still a huge question mark._ _

____

 

__“My mother,” he chokes out. “My mother shifted me.”_ _

____

 

__The word _shifted_ feels strange on his tongue. He might have stopped denying the fact that he’s not human, but he’s not ready to embrace it just yet._ _

____

 

__“Troll,” the man says, calling for Chanyeol’s attention. “Shifters don’t have parents. They come from eggs.”_ _

____

 

__Chanyeol frowns. Was this dragon deprived of a mother’s attention? “My mother who _laid_ me as an egg,” he says, enunciating his words clearly._ _

____

 

__“We’re not laid, troll. We’re formed from magic. We’re made from the essences of the Earth, from Mother Nature herself,” the man explains, scooping up a handful of dirt. “That’s why I can do this.”_ _

____

 

__Chanyeol’s eyes are transfixed on the pebbles and dust levitating above the man’s open palm, but his brain processes a word that forces him to tear his gaze away from the display of magic._ _

____

 

__“We?” Chanyeol asks in an incredulous voice. Since when is a dragon a shifter?_ _

____

 

__The man drops his hand with a sigh and the pebbles fall to the floor instantly, rolling to his feet as the dust settles over them slowly. “Didn’t you see me _shift_ from a dragon to a human?” he asks, thinly veiled sarcasm in his voice._ _

____

 

__Oh. Well, that makes sense, Chanyeol thinks. He looks at his own skin and wonders if there’s a dragon under this pale expanse of human skin, although he doesn’t have the slightest idea of what shifters can actually shift into._ _

____

 

__“So I can… shift into a dragon as well?” he asks, his voice slightly hopeful. The thought of being able to escape this uncoordinated body and morph into a majestic, graceful creature is suddenly very appealing, even though he was calling the man a beast earlier._ _

____

 

__The man tsks in a mocking tone, but there’s a hint of a smile playing on his lips, and Chanyeol is struck with how attractive he looks when he’s not trying to look menacing._ _

____

 

__“Don’t go too far. You can only shift into what you were born as, and I’ve seen shifters that are minotaurs or harpies,” he says, making Chanyeol wince. He doesn’t want to shift into something more beastly than a dragon. “I’ve also seen a phoenix shifter.” That makes Chanyeol exhale in relief. He can deal with being a phoenix._ _

____

 

__“In your case, we have to get rid of that dark magic before you can shift into anything,” the man continues._ _

____

 

__He looks back at the pendant he's holding. Dark magic._ _

____

 

__"This isn’t from my mother, is it?" he asks, eyeing the pendant curiously. Aside from the fact that he has no mother, he can’t see any reason why a mother would curse her own child._ _

____

 

__"No, the essences are different. They're human. Someone obviously wants you alive, but not for a good reason. You can't shift with that dark magic still around."_ _

____

 

__Chanyeol tries pulling the chain over his head, but it's too small and ends up getting stuck around his jaw instead. He tugs on it, but the metal won't yield. He chances a glance at his sword, wondering if that would do the trick._ _

____

 

__"You can't take it off. We have to undo the curse first, but my magic can't get through it easily," the man says._ _

____

 

___"We?" Chanyeol asks again, turning an imploring gaze on the man. It’s the third time he’s heard that word._  
  
"We," the man says with a smile, holding out his hand for Chanyeol to take. "It's been awhile since I've met someone of my own kin, brother." 

____

 

__Chanyeol almost chokes up at the last word as he grasps the large hand with his own slightly smaller hand. Unlike before, when he was trapped , he feels a surge of coolness course through his body from the contact. _Brother_. It’s the first time he feels that he belongs somewhere._ _

____

 

____

↭

 

The following day, both of them are determined to come up with a way to break the curse. Chanyeol is roused from his sleep with a nudge to his arm and he looks up to see electric blue eyes staring at him.

 

“Up. We’re going to make you shift today, brother.”

 

“Chanyeol,” Chanyeol murmurs in reply as he sits up, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes.

 

“What?” the man— Yifan— asks, his eyebrows furrowed. He seems to do to that a lot.

 

Chanyeol knows that the man is Yifan the Destroyer, but to _call_ him that name does not bode well with Chanyeol, especially when the name is a taboo back in the kingdom. He has to bite his tongue multiple times to stop himself from calling him _’the Destroyer’_ after the ‘Yifan’.

 

“I’m Chanyeol,” he says as he stands up. “Just in case you didn’t know,” he adds quickly. He has no idea what kind of foreseeing magic a dragon has, but since he didn’t believe he was from Ferelden, he’d say not that much.

 

They step out of the cave just as the sun peeks over the mountains in the horizon, the early rays warming them up pleasantly. The cave might have been warm when he first entered it, but Chanyeol didn’t expect it to cool down so much during the night. He wishes that Yifan had let him sleep next to him on the bed instead of leaving him to shiver on the floor.

 

They start out fairly easy— using physical means to force the chain to break or to smash the pendant— all to no avail. Chanyeol even suggested they use Yifan’s sword, after his failed to do the job. Yifan’s obsidian sword didn’t even scratch the steel chain. When the sun is almost above their heads and both Chanyeol _and_ Yifan are sweating and exhausted, they decide to take it inside, where the air is cooler. So the heat from yesterday _was_ magic.

 

Both of them realise now that physical means aren’t enough to break the pendant. They’ll have to break the curse another way. Yifan takes Chanyeol to another part of the cave, which makes him wonder how big the cave is. This part is secluded and it’s lined from the floor to the ceiling with bookshelves— all full of books.

 

He’s fascinated by the amount of books in this place and his mind briefly flits to Sir Minseok. He’d be _ecstatic_ to see these books. Yifan’s collection is even bigger than the library in the royal palace.

 

Chanyeol shakes his head as he picks a relatively thin book. He shouldn’t be thinking about Minseok or the kingdom. _They used me_ , he thinks as he opens the book to look for any curse that looks vaguely similar to the one on him.

 

They don’t have clear characteristics to search for, but they know that it requires a huge amount of magic, it protects him, and it forces a shifter to shift permanently— they had discussed it the night before as they settled in to sleep. Yifan also thought that the magic was fading when Chanyeol told him about how he’s never been injured before, and that also narrowed their scope. Not that it helps.

 

By the end of the day, Chanyeol’s eyes are rimmed with red from reading so many words in such a short time. He is, no, was a knight, not a scholar. He’s used to training all day, not reading. He’s hungry, tired, and in his mind is only the floor and pillow he used the previous night.

 

He chances a glance at Yifan, who seems to be unaffected even with the amount of time that has passed. He doesn’t even look tired, Chanyeol thinks as his eyes follow Yifan, who is flitting around from bookshelf to bookshelf, opening up books and conjuring up spells that involve the earth and blowing out small flames from his mouth. At first, Chanyeol had looked on with envy at Yifan’s ability and it spurred him to read more, wanting to shift quickly so he can do those as well. But now, with his eyes straining just to keep themselves open, he wishes for one of two things: that he has Yifan’s energy reserve, or Yifan his.

 

 _How long can a dragon go without food or rest?_ , he asks himself.

 

“Let’s stop here for today,” Chanyeol suggests in a tired voice after a few more minutes of watching Yifan conjure up a spell, only to frown at it and let the fire fizzle out weakly, _again_.

 

Chanyeol has long given up on looking for the curse on the pendant, much less working on the countercurse. Based on the reading he did, he knows that Yifan is at a loss too— this curse has nothing earthly about it at all, and it needs the same element to undo it. Not even Yifan’s strongest spell can break this one. They need a human to undo this, not someone who’s a sorcerer or a priest, just someone who has the same essence.

 

The shifter doesn’t even seem to listen to him as he picks up another book, thicker than the volumes Chanyeol has seen the scholars carry around the castle. He sighs when Yifan starts flipping the pages, knowing that nothing will come up.

 

“Yifan,” Chanyeol calls tentatively, still not used to how the name rolls off his tongue without the title. He’s still not accustomed to calling him in a tone that doesn’t imply fear, much less in a friendly manner.

 

The man in question closes the book with a loud snap, effectively causing Chanyeol, who’s slouched over a table, to sit up straight. His electric blue eyes are fixed on Chanyeol’s tired, brown ones.

 

“Look, troll,” Yifan spits out. “I’m actually trying to help _you_ here.”

 

So he _is_ affected by this, Chanyeol concludes after seeing the lines of dark blue crackling from his irises into the whites of his eyes. Yifan is _angry_ and frustrated, and judging by the ever present furrow on his eyebrows, he must have known that no amount of reading could undo the curse.

 

“We both know that it can’t be undone,” Chanyeol replies, trying his best to make Yifan stop because Chanyeol is also frustrated, although not as much as Yifan.

 

“Shut up, troll. Every curse has a countercurse,” Yifan almost snarls and Chanyeol can _feel_ the ground beneath him tremor, but it doesn’t stop him from spitting out his next words. He has no patience to deal with being called troll every single time. He _told_ him that his name is Chanyeol. And Yifan has no right to let his anger out at him.

 

“No _you_ shut up! I’m tired, and we both might be shifters, but I’m not a monster like you, so I _need_ my rest,” he says, walking around the pile of books to stand in front of Yifan, drawing himself to his full height, although it doesn’t have the desired effect. Yifan still intimidates him, even more so with the clear lines of electric blue in his eyes.

 

“You know what?” he continues, jabbing a finger into Yifan’s chest. He tries not to think about how broad it is or how firm it feels under his finger. “I’m quitting. I survived for eighteen years without shifting, and I’ll be _fine_ staying human for the rest of my life!”

 

That’s partially true. While a huge part of him wants to shift and get rid of the curse so he can finally find a place where he belongs and doesn’t have to train his entire life, another part of him doesn’t _want_ to shift. What if he shifts into something worse than a human? What will he do then? Worse, what if he can’t shift back? Where will he go? At least if he’s still in this form, he can blend in with other humans in another kingdom. He’s got a good physique and he’s capable; he can get a job easily.

 

He stomps outside of the area and walks the distance to the entrance the cave, ignoring how the tremor beneath his feet have stopped. He tries to ignore the disappointment in his chest when Yifan doesn’t call for him.

 

“I can survive just fine without him,” he mutters to himself as he reaches the mouth of the cave, stepping out into the darkness. His eyes accustom to it quickly, having trained in the dark for countless nights. He peeks over the edge to see if his stallion is still there— he didn’t see it this morning. He clucks his tongue and listens carefully for any indication that it’s still waiting. No such luck.

 

 _So much for being faithful,_ he snorts to himself as he makes his way down the hill slowly.

 

 _I don’t need anyone or any animal. I can survive just fine. And I definitely don’t need a moody dragon._ , he thinks.

 

↭

 

It turns out, Chanyeol _does_ need Yifan, he realises as he slowly scales the hill again with a rumbling stomach. It’s not as cool as when he left the cave, now that the sun is already above the mountains in the horizon. The harsh afternoon rays hit Chanyeol directly and sweat beads on his forehead and the back of his neck. His wounds are not the only ones getting irritated from the heat.

 

Chanyeol mutters curses as he continues jumping from ledge to ledge, thankful that he can do this easily. Most of the curses are directed at himself. How could he have forgotten to bring his armour, and most importantly, his _sword_? Even if he is, no, _was_ a prestigious knight, how can he find something to eat without a weapon?

 

Not that he didn’t try. He knows fully well now that a stone isn’t a good enough weapon to kill a deer. He tries not to think about how he had sat next to an injured deer in the middle of the night and apologised to it for breaking its leg, avoiding its judgemental stare as he had stroked the fur. He yanks angrily at the pendant. If it wasn’t for _this_ , he could have shifted into something more powerful. Something with claws that could actually kill a deer.

 

Chanyeol stands at the mouth of the cave, debating if he should go inside. Another growl from his stomach decides for him; he hasn’t eaten since before he got into the cave yesterday, so it’s been more than a full day.

 

With a groan, he shuffles into the cave, trying to be as silent as he can, although he knows Yifan can sense him. When he reaches the room— the one where he sleeps— a delicious scent wafts into his nose. _Food_

 

Without further hesitation, he steps into the room only to see Yifan looking at him with a raised eyebrow and an impassive look on his face, although his eyes betray his amusement. Chanyeol can feel the heat rise all the way to the tips of his ears from embarrassment, but that doesn’t stop him from advancing. He spies a piece of food— _meat_ — and he doesn’t care how Yifan got it or which animal it came from. All he cares about is that this man has a plateful of it, and he needs food desperately.

 

“Back so soon, troll? I thought you’d have more pride than that,” Yifan says in a bored tone before he bites into a piece of meat, closing his eyes as he chews slowly. Chanyeol bets his sword that he’s only doing it to piss him off.

 

“Shut up, lizard,” Chanyeol mutters loud enough for Yifan to hear as he plops onto the floor in front of him, taking a piece from the plate for himself. Judging from how Yifan stopped chewing to glare at him, he heard it. _Aha, he hit a spot_ , he thinks gleefully as he bites into the piece, a moan of delight escaping his lips at the taste of juicy meat filling his mouth.

 

↭

  



	3. Chapter 3

He’s in flames.

 

Chanyeol is surrounded by giant flames that go beyond what his eyes can see, both upwards and outwards. He’s trapped in a wall of fire, standing in the only spot that isn’t in burning.

 

It’s hot. So hot that his sweat evaporates before it can even soak his clothes, so hot that his brain and vision are getting hazy to the point that the only things he can see are colours— red, orange and yellow. The walls of flames are getting closer to him, trapping him. So he does the only action that his muddled mind can formulate— run.

 

He runs, not caring that the air is getting thinner and his lungs feel like they’re burning. He doesn’t care that his clothes are catching on fire. He just needs to escape so he can breathe and be safe, but no matter how fast or how far he runs, he doesn’t seem to be moving. The wall of fire is endless, and soon it licks at his skin, ripping out a scream from his throat because it’s hot, _hot, **hot**_.

 

“Hot, hot, hot!” Chanyeol screams as he sits up on the cave floor, the sound of loud sizzling echoing in his ears. He whips his head around and sees Yifan looming over him with an empty bowl dangling from one hand, his face contorted like he’s concerned. He probably is, judging by the deep lines in his forehead, but Chanyeol doesn’t have it in him to care, not when he felt like he was going to combust just a few seconds ago.

 

Now that he’s completely awake, he realises that he doesn’t feel like he’s burning anymore, although the heat is still there, deep inside him. Before he can ask, the smell of burnt wood causes him to scrunch up his nose.

 

“What’s burning?” he asks Yifan, who is now crouching and looking at him worriedly.

 

“You, troll,” Yifan answers, taking Chanyeol’s hand to lift it up in front of his face. He feels it again, the cooling sensation, although it’s not as strong as before.

 

Chanyeol’s eyes widen. It’s not because of how red and blotchy his usually pale hand is, it’s because of the droplets of water evaporating from his skin, a faint sizzling sound accompanying them. _How hot is he?_

 

Unfortunately, he can’t answer that since his whole body is of the same temperature, judging by the steam enveloping him. Yifan must have splashed him with water and woke him up. For good reason, too; he doesn’t think he would have survived this heat if Yifan hadn’t noticed in the nick of time.

 

Even though his skin feels cooler now, he can feel the heat build up again. Chanyeol is confused— it’s not humanly possible for him to be at such a temperature _and_ survive, but here he is. Luckily, Yifan has the answer.

 

“You must be a fire-elemental shifter. Let’s get you to the lake before you burn up again,”  
Yifan says, standing up and pulling Chanyeol along with him.

 

Chanyeol doesn’t realise how weak his body has become until he’s on his feet and his knees wobble to the point that they’re threatening to give in. He leans to the side— to Yifan’s body— and he feels a strong arm wrap around his torso to support him. The coolness coursing through his body from the contact does not go unnoticed and with the newfound knowledge, Chanyeol discreetly attempts to shift closer to Yifan so their sides would press. A relieved sigh escapes Chanyeol’s lips when he does.

 

The relief doesn’t last for long. Not even a few steps later, he feels the heat bubbling up to the surface again. The sizzling sound gets louder and his vision turns hazy— he has no idea if it’s from the steam or if the heat is making his brain sluggish.

 

He silently hopes that the lake is close enough— he doesn’t think he’d survive hiking down the hill with a fever like this. Relief washes over him when Yifan brings him into another area that’s deeper into the cave. </i>There’s the lake,</i> he thinks. The thought that this is a cave on top of a hill and a lake that size can’t possibly be formed naturally doesn’t even cross his mind.

 

He just wants to cool his body down, he thinks as he extricates himself from Yifan’s hold and slowly hobbles to the lake. Chanyeol ignores the absence of the cooling sensation that Yifan’s touch brought as he strips his clothes off, uncaring about his lack of decency.

 

Chanyeol sighs in content when his whole body is submerged. The water is up to his shoulders and he sits cross-legged on a smooth rock. The heat on his skin dissipates with a sizzle and clouds of steam roll off the surface of the lake.

 

Through the haze, he notices his skin returning to its normal shade, the intensity of the redness decreasing. He also notices the frown on Yifan’s face as he steps closer to the edge, the small waves washing up against his toes. Now that his mind is no longer set on just one thing, Chanyeol feels slightly embarrassed by his state of undress, although he doesn’t think the frown on Yifan’s face is because of that.

 

“This isn’t a fever,” Yifan says, reaching out to press the back of his hand to Chanyeol’s forehead. Chanyeol tries not to think too much about how he leans closer to it— he just wants to feel Yifan’s cool skin. It’s cooler than the water. He almost lets out a disappointed whine when Yifan pulls his hand back. The heat rises up faster than before now and he immediately submerges his whole head.

 

“Fevers don’t make me… sizzle,” Chanyeol says after resurfacing, his mind clear again after the momentary haze. He wants to ask Yifan to go into the water so he can latch onto him without making it awkward.

 

“Why am I hot?” he asks instead.

 

"I think it's your shifter side trying to get out. You’re hotter than molten iron. How long has it been?" Yifan asks, referring to the curse.

 

"Eighteen years, I think,” Chanyeol says, recalling the priest saying his mother had died the same day Chanyeol was born. His eyes widen. “Eighteen years _today_. It’s my birthday,” he adds, his voice taking on a tone of amazement. Suddenly, he looks up at Yifan with wide, horrified eyes. “It’s… the day you’re going to attack,” he says, his voice devoid of emotions.

 

Chanyeol lowers his head and looks down at the water instead. He doesn’t know what to feel. He’s torn between so many emotions. He feels relieved that the kingdom that _used_ him and cursed him would be destroyed, but he also feels guilty. Even though he’s been treated like a mere toy, there’s still Sir Minseok. He is still not sure if their relationship was merely an act on Minseok’s part, but he can’t deny the fondness and attachment he feels for the general.

 

Unexpectedly, Chanyeol also feels dread. He doesn’t want Yifan to leave him. He’s sure that he’d return safely, but what if he gets injured? What if the kingdom had planned something while he was away? What if Chanyeol was just a bait to distract Yifan as they prepare a weapon to destroy him? What if Minseok kills him? The last question causes him to snap his head up to look at Yifan, locking his brown eyes with Yifan’s blue ones.

 

He has _nowhere_ to go. He can’t lose Yifan, not when he finally feels like he belongs here, with someone of his own kind.

 

“How do you expect me to burn a kingdom when I have to babysit you?” he hears Yifan say in a soft tone. He’s sure it’s meant to sound sarcastic, but the softness and worry in Yifan’s eyes give away what he really means.

 

_He’s lonely too._

 

It’s silent for a while before Yifan continues, “I don’t want to come back to a troll burnt to a crisp from his own magic.” Unlike before, his tone is sharper, more sarcastic, but the softness in his eyes is unwavering. Even if he doesn’t say it, Chanyeol can hear the underlying _I don’t want to lose you either_.

 

Chanyeol slowly reaches out a hand to hold Yifan’s, his fingers wrapping around Yifan’s longer ones before he intertwines them. He wants to give in to the cooling sensation again and just close his eyes, but he doesn’t. He keeps his eyes locked with Yifan before rising out of the water, getting off the rock the same time Yifan leans forward to meet his lips in a kiss.

 

The kiss is soft and cool, and it fills Chanyeol to the brim with relief. The raging heat inside him is instantly reduced to a mere buzz to the point that he can no longer hear the sound of sizzling. All he can hear is the sound of the water softly lapping at the shore as he pulls Yifan closer, wrapping his arms around him.

 

Yifan pulls away briefly and Chanyeol lets out a dissatisfied whine, the heat from before rising back again from the lack of touch. He’s never whined before, not even during one of his harshest training sessions. This alone shows how desperate he is and how badly Chanyeol is affected by this heat. He pulls harder until Yifan falls into the water, his clothes completely soaked.

 

Chanyeol immediately wraps his arms tighter around a spluttering Yifan, now that they’re at the same height. He buries his face in his neck and slots his thigh between Yifan’s own, tangling their legs. A soft sigh escapes his lips at the relief.

 

“What was that for?” Yifan asks in an incredulous tone, rubbing the water away from his face.

 

“You’re cold,” Chanyeol supplies, nuzzling his nose into the juncture between Yifan’s neck and shoulder, enjoying how the tip of his nose feels cooler. “The heat’s gone.”

 

That seems to make Yifan silent. “The sizzling stopped,” he says, as if only now realising it.

 

“You made it stop,” Chanyeol says.

 

Yifan tries to extricate himself from Chanyeol’s hold, much to the latter’s displeasure. No matter how hard he tries to hold on, Yifan is still stronger and by the time he’s held at arm’s length, Chanyeol can feel the bruises forming on his arms.

 

“The water, does it help?” Yifan asks, his eyebrows furrowed again. Chanyeol feels the urge to smooth them, but he represses it. _Later_ , he thinks.

 

“No,” he answers truthfully. As cool as the water is, it only helped in cooling down his skin’s temperature and does nothing to get rid of the insistent heat on the inside.  
  
A look of realisation appears on Yifan’s face. “Your essences, they were trapped before. That’s why you were burning,” he says, and Chanyeol just stares blankly at him, not knowing where Yifan’s heading with this.

 

“Your magic,” Yifan begins before amending himself, “ _our_ magic belongs to the Earth. We need to let it go back to the Earth, but yours was trapped. Don’t you get it, troll?”

 

Chanyeol is slightly annoyed that he’s still being called _troll_ after the kiss, but he doesn’t voice it. His head is buzzing enough as it is without him opening his loud mouth and he doesn’t understand what Yifan says, so he shakes his head. His mind is only focusing on the coolness that Yifan’s hands bring.

 

“You couldn’t channel it back, but _I_ can. That’s what I’m doing, I’m channeling your excess magic away,” Yifan continues to explain.

 

 _Oh._ Well if he put it that way, that explains everything, but Chanyeol can’t find it in himself to care about how or why. Instead, he’s just thinking that Yifan isn’t doing his job fast enough, judging by the sizzling that’s starting to happen again.

 

Chanyeol decides to take matters into his own hands and leans forward, crashing his lips onto Yifan’s again. He sighs in relief. The heat was getting almost unbearable during Yifan’s little speech, which makes some sense now that his mind is clearer.

 

Yifan’s hold on his arms loosens and Chanyeol takes the opportunity to step closer, wrapping his arms around Yifan. He felt good during the first kiss and it feels even better now that their bodies are pressed together.  
  
He feels Yifan’s arms snake around him and he sighs into the kiss before deepening it. In the back of his mind, he wonders if he’s doing this because Yifan can make the heat go away or if he really wants to do this.

 

He realises why when Yifan slides his tongue over Chanyeol’s bottom lip, coaxing his mouth open. Chanyeol feels a huge surge of coolness when their tongues touch, washing over him until the heat is no longer there. He’s doing this because he wants to, because kissing Yifan feels good and he never wants to stop.

 

Chanyeol lets out a sound of surprise when he's suddenly lifted up by strong arms and wraps his legs around Yifan's waist on instinct. And _oh, that feels good,_ he thinks as he rolls his hips, rubbing his cock against Yifan's clothed one. It never felt this good when he was touching himself. Judging from the deep moan that escapes Yifan's lips, he must be thinking the same as well.

 

Yifan's hands travel lower to squeeze Chanyeol's ass after Chanyeol wraps his arms around Yifan's neck, pulling himself upwards so he can further deepen the kiss. Chanyeol moans softly as he continues rolling his hips, enjoying the feeling of Yifan's hard cock against his. With how thin and thoroughly soaked Yifan's clothes are, he can feel the outline of his cock, and it turns Chanyeol on even more.

 

Chanyeol feels Yifan's fingers squeeze his ass cheeks before long fingers are spreading them apart. To say he's embarrassed is an understatement— the tips of his ears are red for an entirely different reason than the curse and he feels another kind of heat inside him, one that only Yifan can ease as well.

 

He tries to ignore the finger that is circling and prodding his hole, tries pushing down the embarrassment. Instead, he focuses on sucking Yifan's tongue and threading his fingers through Yifan's hair.

 

It's too much to ignore when the finger presses past the tight ring of muscle and his senses are sent into overdrive— a shock of pleasure rushing to his cock, hardening it quickly. He had no idea being fingered would feel so good. He pulls away from the kiss and lets out a deep groan as the finger pushes in deeper.

 

"Yifan," Chanyeol moans into Yifan's ear as he rocks his body down to push the finger in deeper and rut against Yifan’s cock as well. He buries his face into Yifan's neck, too embarrassed to meet his eyes as he rocks faster, enjoying the way the finger is moving inside him, wiggling and pressing against his walls.

 

He doesn't think it can get any better until a second finger is slipped alongside the first and his lips part in a silent moan, his hips stuttering. Chanyeol can feel every knuckle as the fingers scissor and stretch his hole before he slowly moves his hips again.

 

It feels good, so, so good and the heat inside him is a welcome one, unlike the one before. He could get used to this, he thinks. Suddenly, the fingers are pulled out and Chanyeol lifts his head to express his dissatisfaction with Yifan. He doesn't get to say anything, his tongue frozen when he sees how the dark, lightning shaped lines inside Yifan's irises are crackling into the whites of his eyes. It's so intense— he can't take his eyes off of them.

 

He's only snapped out of his trance when Yifan pulls him close for another kiss, this one more heated than before. Chanyeol moans when he realises that Yifan has rid himself of his clothing and he runs his hands over Yifan's broad back, relishing in the cool sensation of his skin.

 

He can feel the hard muscles rippling under his fingers and it sends his blood rushing downwards. He thinks he can get off just from imagining the way Yifan’s muscles move, but the loud moan that escapes his lips moments later is from feeling Yifan's bare cock against his own.

 

Without any warning, Chanyeol is lifted up higher and he feels the tip of Yifan's cock pressing against his hole. His eyes widen in alarm and he tightens his grip around Yifan's neck, his muscles tense. He's never done this before and he doesn't know if he wants to, so he looks into Yifan's eyes, searching for an answer.

 

To Chanyeol's surprise, the crackling of electricity in his eyes is replaced by a soft glow and he can see the tenderness in them before his lips are caught in a kiss. This kiss is like their first kiss— soft, brief and it calms him down faster than before.

 

He hears Yifan murmur against his lips, "I won't hurt you. I'll protect you."

 

Chanyeol gulps, knowing that Yifan is giving him a choice. "Alright," he whispers before he presses his lips onto Yifan's. Yifan squeezes Chanyeol's thighs briefly before lowering him, the tip of his cock pushing into Chanyeol's stretched hole inch by inch.

 

The moan that escapes Chanyeol's lips is loud, echoing against the cave walls, as he feels himself being stretched in a way that he's never felt before. He feels every curve and ridge of Yifan's cock as it pushes its way past Chanyeol's tight walls, and it's hot, hotter than the fire he felt in his dream.

 

Unlike before, he doesn't want to extinguish the fire, he wants it to burn even brighter and consume his whole being. This is the kind of fire that he wouldn't mind burning in, he thinks as Yifan bottoms out, his thick cock throbbing in Chanyeol's ass.

 

He feels Yifan trail kisses along his jaw and he turns his head to the side to kiss him on the lips, and it's softer than before. Everything that Yifan does is gentle now, from his large hands holding and stroking Chanyeol's thigh to the gentle press of his soft lips against Chanyeol's own chapped ones.

 

It feels good, but he knows he can feel even better, so Chanyeol lifts his hips up. The drag of Yifan's cock against his walls as it's pulled out is a pleasure Chanyeol's never experienced before and he moans, deep and long.

 

Yifan's grip on his thighs tighten to keep Chanyeol in place, his hole stretched open by the crown of Yifan's cock before he's lowered the same time Yifan thrusts upwards. Chanyeol swears he feels a jolt of heat course through his spine when Yifan's cock is pushed inside him again, and he wants more— he wants it harder.

 

So he continues, rocking his hips to meet Yifan's slow, hard thrusts. He untangles his hands from around Yifan's neck and threads his fingers through his hair, staring into his eyes that are crackling with electricity once again. Chanyeol refuses to close his eyes even though the pleasure that shoots up his body with every thrust is demanding him to do so, urging him to lose himself in the passion and lust. He loses himself in Yifan's eyes instead, and he feels the pleasure double when Yifan stares back with lust-filled eyes, the grip on his thighs tightening.

 

Chanyeol doesn't break the gaze the whole time. Not even when his eyes are hooded and his hips are rocking faster, bouncing onto Yifan's cock more desperately. Not even when he feels the heat pool at the bottom of his stomach, spurring him to gyrate his hips as well. Not even when a loud moan is ripped out of his throat when Yifan hits _that_ spot and he sees stars at the edges of his vision.

 

Not until Yifan snaps his hips one last time, filling Chanyeol with hot, thick liquid that causes the fire inside Chanyeol to burst and consume him whole before dissipating into a pleasant, warm buzz.

 

Chanyeol opens his eyes and sees cool, blue eyes gazing at him softly. He closes his eyes and kisses the corner of Yifan's lips before resting his forehead onto his shoulder, content with the heat pulsing softly where they're connected. He wants to hold onto this moment, where everything is warm, soft and pleasant.

 

↭

 

Chanyeol burns up that night as well, but he’s easily cooled down as Yifan crawls on top of him and slides inside him, relieving the heat and replacing it with another kind of heat. They don’t stop, even after Chanyeol’s body is back to normal— the languid thrusts slowly build up the pressure until he feels hot, liquid pleasure course through his body.

 

The following morning, he wakes up feeling refreshed and comfortable— the heat is completely gone and his limbs no longer feel like giving in at any moment. He almost doesn’t get out of the thick, comforting layer of blankets. _Almost._ The empty, cold space beside him makes Chanyeol sit up in bed, exposing his bare chest to the cool morning air. He shivers and tugs the blanket up to his shoulders as his eyes search for Yifan, who’s nowhere to be found.

 

He regretfully uncovers himself so he can swing his legs over the edge of the bed, pointedly trying not to look at his lack of clothing. The tips of his ears are getting hot just from remembering what had happened the day before and how many times _that_ had happened. Chanyeol can’t believe he was reduced to a desperate, begging mess just because of a fever, albeit the fever being a very hot one.

 

He hopes Yifan won’t make any snarky or teasing remarks on how a knight of his caliber was reduced to a submissive person overnight. Chanyeol shudders and feels his cheeks heat up, remembering the multiple times he had pleaded for Yifan to move faster and just take him.

 

A lot of things happened yesterday, Chanyeol thinks. It’s going to change almost everything. He silently prays that it won’t change for the worse.

 

Yesterday he wondered if he did it because he wanted to or because it was convenient. Today, he can’t help but wonder if _Yifan_ did it because he wanted to or because Chanyeol is a shifter like him.

 

“I can hear you thinking all the way from here,” a deep voice interrupts his thoughts and Chanyeol turns his head to look at the source. Yifan is emerging from the deeper parts of the cave— the lake probably, judging by his dripping hair. Chanyeol feels something tug in his chest from how _attractive_ Yifan looks, his black hair swept upwards and droplets of water trailing down his long, pale neck.

 

What tugs at his chest the most is how Yifan’s tone is one of nonchalance— as if nothing had happened the day before.

 

Chanyeol looks at his feet, slightly disappointed, but he doesn’t feel hurt. He’s been expecting this kind of reaction. Of course things would still be the same, why wouldn’t they be?

 

“Hey,” Yifan calls, his voice closer now. Chanyeol looks up and sees him already standing in front of him, his knees almost touching Chanyeol’s. The distance between them is so small that Chanyeol can see the tiny furrow between Yifan’s eyebrows that never seem to disappear. Unable to stop himself, his hand reaches up to press a thumb over it, trying to smooth the crease.

 

“You’re always frowning,” Chanyeol remarks as he pulls his hand away. Yifan looks confused for a moment before his expression morphs into his default one.

 

“And you’re always annoying,” Yifan retorts with a soft snort.

 

Chanyeol is silent. That comment actually hurts, even though he knows Yifan is joking. He shakes his head to get rid of the weird thoughts and emotions he’s feeling. What happened to him? _Nothing_ bothers him, not even insults or harsh scoldings. He had argued and battled with Yifan just a few days ago. Did yesterday really change that much?

 

“Hey,” Yifan repeats, his voice softer as if he senses Chanyeol’s emotional turmoil, causing the latter to look up at him. Chanyeol focuses his gaze on Yifan’s nose— he doesn’t think he wants to see Yifan’s eyes right now. They’re always so intense and show the rawest emotions.

 

“What?” Chanyeol asks, his voice slightly clipped. He feels something plummet in his stomach when the corners of Yifan’s lips tug downwards. He didn’t mean for it to sound that way.

 

“Look at me,” Yifan commands, although his voice is still soft. Chanyeol wants to disobey, but he finds himself doing it anyway, slowly meeting Yifan’s eyes. He’s relieved when he sees none of the usual mirth and annoyance in Yifan’s eyes— the crackling isn’t there. Instead, he sees the softness he’d seen so much of yesterday.

 

“Stop being so hormonal and insecure, troll,” Yifan continues. His </i>’troll’</i> no longer holds any bite. Chanyeol dreads that it might become a pet name for him and Yifan will never call him by his name.

 

“Please stop calling me that. I have a name, it’s-” Chanyeol doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Yifan murmurs _‘troll’_ before silencing him with a kiss, his large hands cupping Chanyeol’s cheeks gently. Chanyeol feels a thumb tracing his jaw and he sighs in content. Everything is alright. Yifan won’t leave him and Chanyeol won’t be forced to leave Yifan.

 

Chanyeol wraps his arms around Yifan’s waist and pulls him closer, Yifan’s legs between his own. He tugs Yifan down so he’s lying on the bed again with Yifan on top of him. Instead of deepening the kiss like how he did so many times yesterday, Yifan rolls over so they’re lying side by side, facing each other. His thumb is still stroking Chanyeol’s jaw, silencing the usually loud man again.

 

The silence is broken when Yifan whispers, “I had a mate.”

 

Chanyeol’s first instinct is to pull away, his heart sinking to his stomach at the confession, but the usage of the past tense holds him back.

 

“What happened?” he asks instead. He’s scared of what Yifan’s answer will be. What if Chanyeol is a substitute, a mere _tool_ so Yifan can forget? He doesn’t want to think about the possibility that he’s being used by Yifan as well, not knowing what he’ll do and where he’ll go.

 

His thoughts don’t travel far because Yifan quickly explains, “A knight from the kingdom took him, for his magic. He was defenseless— a mere egg when they destroyed him.” His eyes don’t leave Chanyeol’s the whole time and Chanyeol can see the sorrow and loneliness in them. He didn’t even get to _see_ his mate. Chanyeol wants nothing more than to embrace Yifan, and he does.

 

“I _just_ found him a few days before. He was so pure, so innocent, formed in the middle of blinding white, freshly fallen snow on a mountain. I flew over two oceans when I felt him, just to find him. Did you know we can only find our mate once?” he continues, his voice cracking.

 

Chanyeol had no idea, and he realizes he, too, must have a mate of his own. But this is not the time to think about that, not when Yifan is breaking down in front of him. Yifan, ruthless and strong, is crumbling in front of him, his eyes glassy.

 

Chanyeol doesn’t want a mate. He doesn’t want to be forced to leave Yifan. He wants to stay; Yifan had been so lonely all this time. Chanyeol can only imagine the endless days that Yifan had to go through when he could have spent it with someone he loved. Even though Chanyeol never felt like he belonged to the kingdom, at least he had Sir Minseok.  
  
Sir Minseok, who used him and doesn’t want him anymore.

 

He presses his lips to Yifan’s temple and whispers, “It’s okay now. I won’t leave you.”

 

He didn’t have the courage to say it earlier, but now that he knows Yifan feels the same way, he feels nothing weighing him down. It doesn’t matter that they’re not mates, nor does it matter that Yifan will never love him like he loved his mate. They’re both just two very lonely souls who have finally found a place where they belong— with each other.

 

“They _killed_ him. I couldn’t feel him anymore,” Yifan says, his voice breaking into a sob at the second word. Eighteen years of solitude. If the pain of having someone you love being taken away isn’t enough, _that_ is enough to make anyone go crazy.

 

Chanyeol recalls the damage to the kingdom after every attack and he feels Yifan’s actions are justified now, even wondering why he didn’t destroy the kingdom completely. Before, he was appalled at how cruel Yifan was, burning innocent civilians and knights alive. Now that he can see the heartbreak and sorrow that Yifan experienced for eighteen years, he feels disgusted that he was ever associated with the kingdom.

 

Now he knows what Yifan meant by humans being the lowest creatures. No wonder he was so hostile when he thought Chanyeol was human. He’s silently glad that he’s not one of them.

 

Chanyeol continues whispering words like _’It’s okay’, ‘I’m here’_ and _’I won’t leave you’_ into Yifan’s ear until he hears deep breaths replace the heartbreaking sobs.

 

↭

 

Chanyeol has no idea how much time has passed since Yifan fell asleep in his embrace, but judging from the numb feeling in his arms, probably hours. The cool air has warmed up considerably. He slowly retracts his arms and sits up, being careful not to wake Yifan and also trying not to worsen the pins and needles. He flexes his hands and arms, trying to get rid of the numbness.

 

Once he’s regained the use of his limbs, he lies back down, trailing his eyes upon Yifan’s features. He marvels at how attractive Yifan is, with his thick eyebrows, long, pointed nose, and thick pink lips. Chanyeol has to refrain from kissing those plush lips again and pointedly tries to push the image of them, swollen and shiny from their intense lovemaking yesterday, out of his mind.

 

He glances at his cock, already stirring and hardening slowly from the mental image. Embarrassed that he’s turned on while Yifan is _asleep_ , he picks up a pair of pants from the floor next to the bed and puts them on, patting his clothed cock afterwards.

 

“Behave,” he whispers.

 

He sits back on the bed again and looks at Yifan, noticing the small, ever-present furrow between his eyebrows. Even when he’s sleeping, he’s still frowning. A small smile makes its way onto Chanyeol’s face as he attempts to smooth the furrow with his thumb.

 

“Chanyeol!”

 

Chanyeol sits up straight and strains his ears. Is someone calling for him? The voice is too faint for him to be sure.

 

“Chanyeol!”

 

There it is again, but closer this time. Chanyeol’s eyes widen when he realises who the owner of the voice is.

 

 _Minseok_.

 

Chanyeol’s heart hammers against his ribcage and he feels dread in his stomach. Why is Minseok here? Did he decide he wants Chanyeol to return? Is he planning to use Chanyeol again?

 

Either way, Chanyeol dreads meeting Minseok, knowing nothing good will come out of it. He doesn’t want to go back to the kingdom now that he knows he’s been used, and he refuses to be a tool for Minseok again. He’s content here, even though he’s stuck in this form, probably until the end of time.

 

He doesn’t want to see Minseok, so he wraps the blanket around himself and looks cautiously at Yifan.

 

If Yifan wakes up, however, it would be a whole different story. Chanyeol knows he himself is temperamental, but he has no idea how Yifan would act in the presence of a human, especially after the breakdown. If the way he was almost killed during the first battle was any indication, Chanyeol deduces that Yifan would probably attack Minseok.

 

He doesn’t want that to happen, even if Minseok _did_ use him. He helped him get through a lot in the past ten years— ever since Minseok became a war general.

 

“Chanyeol!” Minseok calls again, and this time it’s closer, a bit echoey.

 

_He’s inside._

 

Fear creeps up into Chanyeol’s throat. He doesn’t know what to do— he doesn’t want to meet Minseok, knowing it would end badly. But if he doesn’t get up and meet him, Yifan would wake up and it will _definitely_ end badly. Why won’t Minseok just leave?

 

Chanyeol’s heart stops when Yifan’s eyelids flutter, revealing blue eyes that are still unfocused. He prays for him to fall asleep again, but he knows that his prayer is unanswered when he sees the dark lines again, crackling more than he’s ever seen before.

 

He doesn’t even get to explain anything before a snarl escapes Yifan’s lips and he jumps off the bed, shifting into the huge, majestic dragon.

 

This time, Chanyeol gets to witness the transformation. He sees how his body elongates and the scales form from the top of the head to the tip of the long tail. He sees how the large wings burst out from Yifan’s back, and it’s beautiful. Yifan is _beautiful_.

 

The sound of the air being sliced spurs Chanyeol to snap out of his daze and he realize what has happened. _No, no, no._ He scolds himself for his wishful thinking. Of course this would happen, this is all his fault. If only he’d gotten up and talked to Minseok.

 

This is no time for regrets, he thinks as he gets off the bed. He needs to stop this before one of them— most likely Minseok— gets injured.

 

The scar from Minseok’s betrayal might still be painful, but not to the point that he wants him dead. Yifan’s scar, on the other hand, is a different one. It’s deeper, and it hurts more than anything, and that might be enough to kill— which is exactly what he’ll do when he sees Minseok.

 

“Chanyeol!”

 

Chanyeol’s blood runs cold when he hears the voice closer than before. A loud roar follows the call and he turns around to see Minseok shielding himself from Yifan’s front claw. His shield dents and Chanyeol knows he doesn’t have much time.

 

“Yifan, no!” Chanyeol yells as he runs towards them to stand between the two. He doesn’t get to explain anything before he hears a deafening roar, causing him to cover his ears, his eyes shut tightly. He hears the faint sound of Minseok yelling at him to get out of the way and he opens his eyes just in time to see why— a ball of flames is coming right at him.

 

The heat is unbearable, he thinks as a scream is ripped out of his throat. It’s even hotter than the heat he felt yesterday and it hurts, even though it leaves nothing more than an angry red hue on his skin. Everything hurts right now. His skin hurts from the fire, and it hurts when he sees the look of anger in Yifan’s eyes, but it hurts the most to see Yifan trying to hurt him. Tears prickle at the edges of his eyes but he refuses to give in. He needs to talk to Yifan, needs to make him see things clearly.

 

“Yifan, please, stop,” he pleads as he moves closer to the dragon, his voice hoarse. “Let me explain first. Please don’t hurt us,” he continues.

 

At the last word, however, Yifan screeches and strikes at Chanyeol with his front leg. It hits Chanyeol squarely on the chest and he’s thrown back so far that his back hits the wall of the cave. He feels the wound at the back of his head reopen and warm liquid trickling down his neck.

 

The pain from the wound however, is nothing compared to the pain from the betrayal. It’s more painful than the deep gash across his chest, running from his right shoulder to his left, bottom rib from Yifan’s sharp claw. The physical pain is nothing compared to the hurt he feels inside. He’d always choose broken ribs over a broken promise.  
  
He feels the blood from the gash soak his pants and feels lightheaded. Must be a lot of blood, he thinks. From the corner of his darkening vision, he can see Minseok rushing to him with a worried look on his face, his mouth forming words that Chanyeol can’t hear.

 

Chanyeol casts one last glance at Yifan, who’s no longer in his dragon form now. Yifan looks stunned, as if he can’t believe what he just did. His blue eyes dart from Chanyeol to his own bloodied hand, as if he’s trying to comprehend the situation.

 

Chanyeol can’t believe it either, but the unbearable pain across his bleeding chest says otherwise. He looks away from Yifan— he can’t bear to look at him anymore. It hurts too much.

 

He blacks out just before he feels strong arms lift him up, knowing that they’re not the arms that embraced him yesterday.

 

↭

 

Chanyeol wakes up feeling like he’s burning from the inside again, and it’s worse than before— second only to Yifan’s fire.

 

_Yifan’s fire._

 

Hot tears prickle at the edges of his eyes. He remembers how Yifan had broken his promise to never hurt him and to protect him. It’s ironic that he was the one who ended up trying to burn Chanyeol.

 

Chanyeol wonders if he’s dead, but judging by the hushed, urgent voices around him, he doesn’t think so. Slowly, his eyelids flutter open and he realises where he is. That familiar brick wall, the sunlight streaming through the canopy above, and the faint sound of clashing of swords— he’s back at his own training grounds.

 

He’s lying on a stone platform, his bare, burning back relishing in the cool temperature of it, although he feels slight wetness on his torso, sides and back. Of course, why would they nurse a shifter? He’s dispensable anyway.

 

He hears words like _‘now’,’burning up’_ and _’curse’_ and he wants to get up, wants to see what they’re talking about, but his body is too weak for him to even lift his head. Will anyone even pay attention to him? Everyone is flitting around him, and his eyes are too unfocused to see if anyone is by his side, tending to his injuries.

 

 _Probably not,_ he thinks, closing his eyes, already resigned to his fate.

 

“Chanyeol,” a voice calls and he opens his eyes, blinking the haziness away. He doesn’t recognise who it is through his clouded vision, but he can see the white attire. _One of the priests._

 

“I’m sorry, but we have to do this,” he continues. Chanyeol frowns, not knowing what he means by _this_. Before he could ask, he gets his answer when another priest comes into his line of vision, a sharp silver dagger in hand.

 

 _So this is it_ , Chanyeol thinks. They’re going to get rid of him now that they can’t use him anymore.

 

“The pendant is weak and it won’t hold your magic in for much longer. We can’t have another dragon on the loose,” the other priest says in a regretful voice. Chanyeol wonders who put them up to this when it’s clear as day that they’re unwilling. Who in their right mind would make a priest _kill_?

 

It’s only a few seconds later that he finally registers the priest’s words.

 

_Another dragon?_

 

Chanyeol’s eyes widen and the haze clears away slightly. Now he can see the faces of the priests, and he recognises the first one as the one that always gives him extra treats from the kitchen after a long day of training. _Yixing._

 

He’s always assumed that he’d be a phoenix ever since Yifan uttered that word. It never crossed his mind that he’s a dragon, even though it’s the most obvious choice.

 

He takes in a shaky breath. They would have gotten along so well, but now, they won’t even get to be together because he’s going to die.

 

Chanyeol wants to struggle, wants to run. He doesn’t _want_ to die, but if he doesn’t, where will he go? The kingdom wants him dead. _Yifan wants him dead too,_ his brain helpfully supplies, causing the pain inside him to intensify. He doesn’t want to think about Yifan anymore.

 

Maybe, he thinks, it’s time to let go. He doesn’t want to live an unfulfilling life, even though that’s what his life was for eighteen years. He got a taste of living when he was with Yifan, and he doesn’t think he can go back to living alone in a place where he doesn’t belong.

 

Biting back on a sob, he closes his eyes and gives a slight nod.

 

“Wait,” another voice says. _Minseok._ What does he want now? Is he going to save him?

 

“I want to be beside him,” he continues and Chanyeol’s heart sinks even though he thought he was ready for his death. Of course Minseok wouldn’t save him. He was the one who brought him here in the first place. He doesn’t want to dwell on _why_ Minseok wants to see him die.

 

“Alright,” Yixing says after a moment of hesitation. “Be careful not to touch him. Joonmyun’s hand is scalded from trying to bandage him up.” Oh, so that’s why he’s still bleeding. It comforts him a bit, knowing that they tried to heal him.

 

He turns his head to look at Minseok, and even through his unfocused, watery eyes, he can see the look of regret on his face. He briefly wonders who put them up to this, and then decides that he doesn’t care. It’s too late to change anything anyway.

 

He closes his eyes just as Minseok bends down to whisper into his ear, “I’ll get you out of here. Hang on just a bit more.”

 

Chanyeol shakes his head weakly, knowing that even if Minseok can somehow find a way to bring him out of this situation and out of the kingdom, he’ll still bleed or burn to death. He can already feel his head pounding from the heat. Chanyeol just hopes they’ll get it done before he bursts into flames.

 

Minseok whispers a string of unintelligible words into his ear. Has the heat messed up his hearing as well? Chanyeol cracks an eye open and sees Yixing holding up the dagger, bringing it closer to Chanyeol’s throat. His own vision is too clouded, both by the heat and by the tears, for him to make out the expression on Yixing’s face. Minseok’s words are more hurried now and it sounds like a very long spell instead of comforting words of support.

 

“I’m sorry,” he hears Yixing mutter under his breath just as Minseok finishes uttering the last word and Chanyeol realises that he _was_ muttering a spell.

 

_They need a human to undo this, not someone who’s a sorcerer or a priest, just someone who has the same essence._

 

It’s too late though. Chanyeol shuts his eyes, bracing himself for the pain. It never comes.

 

He feels the blade press onto his skin, but it doesn’t pierce. Chanyeol opens his eyes and everything is in perfect clarity now— he can see everyone’s expression, from the horrified and shocked priests to the look of relief and triumph on Minseok’s. Chanyeol seems to be rising, everything suddenly becoming further and smaller. Everyone except Minseok is panicking and clambering to get away from Chanyeol.

 

They don’t stop getting smaller, Chanyeol notices, panicking as he looks around for any indication of what’s happening. He knows why it feels like he’s floating when he sees his body covered in scales, a blood red colour. He looks down and sees Minseok staring up at him from the ground, next to a large dragon foot, covered in red scales.

 

 _His_ foot.

 

 _What’s happening?_ he tries to ask, but only a feeble whimper escapes his throat. He realises with a start that he’s a dragon now, and he has no idea on how to shift back into a human. He can’t believe he wanted this so much before. Now he’s scared and confused and it’s all a very strange experience for him.

 

In his panic, Chanyeol steps back, his side knocking into a building, crumbling it to rubble in the process. He turns around to see what he just did when his tail, a long appendage with spikes that he wasn’t aware of previously, knocks another building down. Horrified, he lets out a loud roar and with it, a burst of blue flames which burns another building to ashes in mere seconds.

 

Chanyeol is scared— he’s scared of himself. It hasn’t even been a minute since he’s shifted and he’s already destroying everything within a ten metre radius.

 

He hears screaming— anguished, angry screams— and he turns his gigantic body around to look for an escape. He needs to get out of here before he destroys the whole village, or worse, the whole kingdom. He knocks a few more buildings over in his haste and spits out blue flames again when he nearly tramples on a villager. The villager is burnt into ashes as well, and Chanyeol feels his blood run cold.

 

This is not what he wanted.

 

He feels a presence behind him, insistent and pressing, so he turns around again, this time not looking at the civilians running beneath him and around his feet. He looks for the presence, wondering what it is, because it urges him to walk and trample on innocent civilians without a care. His eyes suddenly lock on Minseok’s and he realises how much damage he has made when he sees the fear in Minseok’s eyes.

 

Minseok is _never_ scared. Chanyeol knows he’s messed up.

 

He wants to escape, but he doesn’t know how to without trampling on everyone else, so he remains motionless, not even daring to breathe. That is, until he hears a loud command and a wave of arrows pelt over his hide, bouncing off his scales. None of them pierce through, but it still shocks him. He retreats and tries to escape from the next wave of arrows, destroying several more buildings in the process with his body and his blue fire.

 

Chanyeol only stops when he hears only silence. There’s no more screams, wails, commands, nor the sound of arrows whooshing through the air. It’s silent except for the loud beating of wings above him, urging him to look up. He’s never felt more relieved than he feels now when he sees the familiar black dragon hovering over him.

 

_He came._

 

Even from a dragon’s perspective, Yifan is huge, majestic and above all, _beautiful._ Chanyeol doesn’t think his blood red scales can ever compare to Yifan’s sleek black ones. Chanyeol lets out a cry, calling for Yifan.

 

He hears a loud, deafening roar and dread fills him instantly— he knows what’s coming next. His eyes dart around to look for Minseok, the only person he feels worth protecting in this kingdom. A sound of relief escapes him when he sees Minseok already on his horse, galloping out of the kingdom’s main gate.

 

Chanyeol feels his back muscles constrict before huge, red wings wrap around him just in time for the flames to emerge from Yifan’s mouth. Compared to this one, the ball that hit him before was a mere dot. He chances a glance, looking up and seeing everything covered in flames, even the castle. If he could get goosebumps right now, he’d have it all over his body. The sight is spectacular— everything is in red and orange flames, and no humans are in sight, the ashes the only indication of their existence.

 

When the flames have faded, the cool autumn wind softly extinguishing it, Chanyeol’s wings retract and he sees Yifan lowering himself to the ground, now clear of any buildings. On the same level, he sees how Yifan still towers over him by almost a hundred feet. He wonders if he’ll ever catch up to Yifan’s size.

 

 _My mate_ , Chanyeol hears Yifan’s voice in his head and his eyes widen as far as they can go. Was he the mate that Yifan lost eighteen years ago?

 

Yifan steps closer before he bends down, nuzzling his snout against the side of Chanyeol’s face. Yifan’s large, black wings expand to shroud the both of them in darkness. Chanyeol closes his eyes, feeling content and safe, the thought of them being _mates_ comforting him.

 

Suddenly, everything is bright again and he can see Yifan in his human form. He looks at his arms and sees fingers instead of claws. He’s going to have to ask Yifan how to shift, he thinks at the back of his mind before scolding himself. He’ll have all the time in the world to ask Yifan about anything. Now is not the time.

 

He looks back up at Yifan, who’s smiling at him. Yifan looks absolutely beautiful, standing in the middle of _nothing_ — the whole kingdom completely destroyed and covered in ash.

 

"Chanyeol," Yifan says softly, a small smile on his face. His blue eyes are soft.

 

It’s the first time Yifan has ever called him by name, and the way his name rolls off Yifan’s tongue feels just right. He’s never going to get enough of it.

 

“Yifan,” Chanyeol says, barreling forward into Yifan’s outstretched arms. He tilts his head up for a kiss, a wave of relief and comfort washing over him when their lips touch. A smile makes its way onto his face, and he can feel Yifan’s lips curving as well.

 

They’ve found a place where they belong— with each other. Chanyeol and Yifan are home now.

 

↭

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Written for the first round of [exoments.](http://exoments.livejournal.com) Please take a look and enjoy the other fics posted there!


End file.
